Chapter Text
Bruce bit his lip as he felt it entered behind him, a familiar pain strikes inside of him, he thought he's bleeding again, or maybe he is.
But Jeremiah, that didn't stop him. He don't mind though. He just want to fuck the young man hard, that's all.
Bruce can't do anything but to hold a grip to the thick blanket under him and grit his teeth out of anger while his knees are kneeling in the bed facing the soft mattress.
Again, he can't do anything against him. All Bruce can do is to accept everything Jeremiah wants to give. There's nothing that he can do to stop him.
Jeremiah has done this to him several times but as always, Bruce did nothing.
He can't.
He can't let someone else get hurt because of him. That's what he always tell himself, but sometimes Bruce just find myself accepting everything, accepting that he is weak.
He is weak.
A pathetic and weak plaything.
"A-ah, fuck. You feel so good, Bruce." Jeremiah groaned as he gave a slow and painful thrust. "So good to me."
Bruce didn't said anything. He remained silent while shutting his eyes close, accepting every thrust he gives. Reminding himself that he is doing this for the better. Jeremiah's hands roamed on Bruce's body, until his other hand reached Bruce's length while the other one wrapped around his neck. Not squeezing, not yet.
"Oh Bruce, how can you be so beautiful even like this?" Jeremiah breathed, as he stroke Bruce's length up and down. Still, the young man didn't say anything, his mouth remained closed, "Why don't you say something? Moan for me darling, moan."
Bruce didn't do as he was told. Why would he? It will only satisfy Jeremiah.
Jeremiah's rapidly thrusted into him, he went faster and faster, then deeper and harder. Then Jeremiah pulled out and flipped Bruce onto his back. Jeremiah dragged Bruce legs up and onto his shoulders, grabbed the young man's hips and thrust all the way inside.
Bruce failed to smother the noise that came out of his mouth when Jeremiah touched a point inside of him, deep inside of him. Above him, Jeremiah smirked smugly.
"There we go, darling, that's it, don't hold back." Jeremiah praised as he pistoned into him. Bruce could feel his hair clinging to his forehead and he could hear his own cries escaping his lips as Jeremiah assaulted that spot deep inside of him. His prostate. It felt so good and it made his cock throb and Bruce threw his head back.
Jeremiah doesn't stop stroking Bruce's cock, gripping and massaging every bit of it. He held Bruce's face before crushing his lips into him, biting his lower lip making it bleed and sucking his tongue while still pumping in and out on him.
Jeremiah pulled out all the way and thrust into the boy with such force that Bruce saw stars. He then picked up a fast pace, pounding into the young man, so they were both lightheaded. Bruce can no longer hold back his moan. His head swayed side to side as Jeremiah strokes him in a pace that matched the rhythm of his thrusts.
"There's my good boy." Jeremiah whispered. His thrusts slowed down and stroked his sweaty hair. Bruce let out a sharp cry at the harsh thrust that turned into a choked moan when Jeremiah started moving faster and then harder, his hand squeezed around his neck. Blocking his windpipe. When Bruce thought he was about to pass out, Jeremiah let go of his neck and he gasped.
Jeremiah grabs Bruce’s face, “Look at me”, he commanded. He was trying to force the young man’s teary eyes onto his own. He felt the sizzling tingle on his lips and heat pooling in his lower abdomen. "I own you." Jeremiah growled, meeting the young man's teary gaze, staring deep into them. Bruce comes violently with a hoarse cry, arching his back, and clenching down on Jeremiah.
Jeremiah grunted, with one final thrust, he came inside of Bruce, moaning as he released his seeds inside of Bruce before pulling out his cock. The young man give a shaky, weak moan as he felt warmth flooding his insides. He feels so tired that he can't even try to get away when Jeremiah leaned down on him, can't even protest when Jeremiah kisses him on the lips. Sweet and gentle, as if he hadn't gone on assaulting his body again just a moment ago.
His body was spent, his cock now flaccid, and he panted, trying to catch his breath. It seemed so surreal, everything that had just happened to him.
He felt so used, his body having betrayed him and he had been too scared to fight back, blackmailed into taking it. He's weak and felt like it too. Bruce felt like the world's biggest coward and so useless.
How had things come to this?
It's because of the gas, the gas that changed Jeremiah and turned him into this monster.
The Jeremiah Valeska he knew was gone. The brilliant, quiet, smart, and recluse engineer was gone, only to be replaced by a cold, dangerous, manipulative mass murderer.
Or maybe the gas freed the real him.
Maybe he was born bad. Just like Jerome had said.
"Stop crying, Bruce." He heard him talking on the side of the bed, He sniffled, tears streaming, as he turned to look at Jeremiah.
Jeremiah was already buttoning his shirt while facing the mirror but he was looking at the young man's reflection. "Enough Bruce, it doesn't become of you."
Bruce didn't even notice him leaving the bed or putting on clothes. Still, he didn't said anything and remained silent. The madman sighed and turned to face him, "Silent treatment, I see."
Bruce looked at the man directly in his eyes. He knew how he must look, debauched, pale faced, weak and fighting back tears. "Our deal." He gritted.
"Ah, yes, yes. I'll call off the bomb, don't worry your pretty precious head darling, I suggest you better get some rest." Jeremiah said as he turned away from him, facing the mirror again, he fixes his hair until it's in its former immaculate state.
Bruce looked at Jeremiah incredulously, "How do I know if you're telling the truth?" He retorted, "If you will keep your word?"
"Oh, Bruce. You don't trust me?" Jeremiah asked, with feigned hurt expression.
"Can you blame me?" Bruce can't help but to scoff at his words, as if Jeremiah hadn't betrayed and lied to him.
"Trust me Bruce. I will fulfill our agreement." Jeremiah drawled. The madman looked at him and grinned, Bruce fight the urge to hit him, but Bruce can't trust himself to be able to put up a fight right now of how drained he is.
"After you give yourself over to me, who am I to not keep my word?" Jeremiah's pale, hungry eyes roamed on his naked form and the young man snatched the blanket to cover his body.
It's useless, he knows. Jeremiah has already seen his body, had already done using it. There's no point in trying to hide it, but the word 'exposed' keeps popping into his thoughts, he can't help but pull his knees to his chest and wrap his arms around his knees.
"I must say Bruce, you feel even better that I remembered." Jeremiah sighed dreamily.
"Please, Jeremiah, stop." Bruce squeezed his eyes shut, then sighed, "Ju-just do your part of our deal." Bruce said under his breath.
"I will Bruce." Jeremiah finally said, "I'll call off... one of the bombs."
Bruce was quick to whipped his head to look at Jeremiah just in time to see him grinning darkly at him. "What? Our deal is that you'll do anything you want with me and you'll call all off the bombs!" Bruce snarled, gripping the blanket.
"Ah, ah, ah, Bruce. That's what you want, did I agree to that? No. I offer the deal, you give yourself to me and in return I'll call off one of my bombs and you agreed to it."
Bruce, feels nothing right now but rage by the madman's betrayal again and again was quick to got up of bed and lunged at Jeremiah. "No!"
Maybe because Jeremiah was expecting his reaction and his attack, or maybe because he was so tired and weak that Jeremiah could easily manhandle him. He grabbed both of his arms and pushed him back onto the bed. He tried to crawled away but Jeremiah gripped his arms forced him to lay back on the bed and crawled on top of him, pinning his hands beside his head. Their face inches away from each other.
Bruce continued to thrash against the madman, "Stop it, Bruce," Bruce ignored him, instead he continued to squirmed under him.
"You're a liar!" The young man snarled, "You're a fucking liar!"
"I said enough!" Jeremiah snarled back, the young man stopped and stared up at him with tears flowing down his pale cheeks, his eyes full with anger, but his lips are trembling. Jeremiah took a deep breath to calm himself.
"I appreciate what you gave me today Bruce, so don't force me to change my mind. I'm sure you don't want the other people get hurt again just because you don't know how to obey." The madman chided, letting go one of Bruce's hand to stroke his face but Bruce turned away from his hand.
"Fuck you." Bruce spat.
Jeremiah just grinned at the comment, "Maybe later darling, I enjoyed it so much and I know you did too, and I'm certain we're going to enjoy our next 'activities' even more, and as much as I want to spend more time with you, I'm afraid I have important things to do first." He smiled sweetly down at him and Bruce thinks he might vomit. "But don't worry I'll make it up to you." He said, then he kissed Bruce's forehead quickly before he got up from the bed. He grabbed his coat on the floor and then put it on himself.
Bruce tiredly sat up from his position on the bed, he shook with his sobs. "I-I hate you." He muttered, struggling to get up from the bed, his naked form all forgotten, his anger overwhelming him. "I hate you..." Bruce surges to his feet then, stumbles; unsteady, dizzy, exhausted. "I hate you so much—"
Jeremiah turned and hugged Bruce before he could attack him from behind, effectively pinning both of his arms to his side by Jeremiah's vice grip hold. Jeremiah snake a hand to wrap around Bruce's wrist and squeezed forcefully, painfully, forcing Bruce to let go of the stolen knife he had. It clattered loudly on the floor.
Jeremiah pressed a kiss to the back of Bruce's neck, his shoulder bones, and the juncture between his neck and shoulder. He vaguely recognized that the young man was crying.
"You shouldn't have done that Bruce." Jeremiah whispered, kissing at the tear marks caused by Bruce's sobbing. "Jeremiah please..." Bruce pleads. "Sshh... don't cry Bruce." Jeremiah soothes.
Bruce felt more like crying, he didn't know what to do, he feel so stupid for doing that, but couldn't find it in himself to regret it. Jeremiah deserve it, fuck, Jeremiah deserves to die for everything he had done. And the only thing that Bruce is regretting right now is that he failed to do it. Now he has to face the consequences. What if Jeremiah changes his mind? What if he decided not to call off the bombs? What if—
"Time to rest Bruce, you need it." Jeremiah said, leaving no room for argument.
"Jeremiah... I-I, p-please..." Bruce tries again, and Jeremiah sighed, "P-please, please don't—" he noticed that Jeremiah had fish out something from his coat pocket, the glint of the syringe needle was the only warning he saw before he felt it pricked into his neck.
Bruce struggled, at first, but there is no point of doing such a thing right? His struggles ceased as the world began to swam around him and his vision became hazy, his eyes drooping as whatever the madman had injected him with started to work it's way through his system. His limbs began to feel numb, it getting harder and harder to stay awake the more he struggled.
"Easy," Jeremiah coaxed as Bruce fell on him, "I got you." He picked Bruce up bridal style and went over to the bed to gently lay the shaking young man. "Relax, it's just a sedative, I can't risk you running away from me again this time, and that'll help you fall asleep and stay that way until I come back." Jeremiah eased, covered him with a blanket, pressing a kiss on his cheek. "You need to get some rest, you don't look well."
Before Jeremiah could get away, Bruce grabbed his wrist pathetically, weakly begging, "Please—"
"I'll be back as soon as I can. Don't worry, this place is secured, no one's going to see or find you except me." Jeremiah reassured, prying Bruce's hands off on his wrist before kissing the backs of them.
Bruce tried to argue, tried to plead him about the bombs, but he was so afraid and fatigued and in shock that only pathetic noises came out, and the next thing he knew he was out cold in Jeremiah's empty house.